


Festival Day

by lys



Category: Fall of Ile-Rien - Martha Wells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1633046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lys/pseuds/lys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Festival Day in Cineth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Festival Day

**Author's Note:**

> with help from ltlj
> 
> Written for Mary Crawford

 

 

In the months since Tremaine has arrived in Cineth, she hadn't wanted to kill herself once, but it was certainly looking like an attractive option today. 

Everybody was all in a dither preparing for the harvest festival, and she would've been perfectly happy to let them dither along without her if it weren't for Visolela, who had pulled her aside and offered to bake extra bread for her house. Visolela's casual assumption that there was no way Tremaine could fulfill such an important traditional part of Syrnaic life naturally had the opposite effect. Tremaine was going to bake the bread if it fucking killed her and burned down the house in the process. 

Tremaine quoted to herself from memory: "and on the last rest-day before solstice, there will be the harvest feast for all in the Houses. And all in the House will give thanks to the god for the successful harvest. And the matriarch of the House, who is absolute ruler and lord of all inside, except for how this doesn't stop them from arguing with her about everything under the sun, will prepare the god damn bread as a symbol of her ability to feed and support her House." All right, that wasn't quite an accurate quote, but it hit the high points.

And in their case, the god was actually present to get its thanks in person. Tremaine had seen it this morning, huddled under an overturned basket in the atrium, hiding in plain sight like an anti-social but lonely housecat. She suspected the god didn't give a damn who made the bread today; as Ilias had pointed out, it wasn't like the god was going to eat it. Come to think of it, the god didn't exactly do any of the planting or harvesting either. 

And Ilias and Giliead were no help. When she'd announced she was going to do it, Ilias had fallen over laughing, and the god only knew how Gil had managed to keep a straight face. 

That left Eliva. After 21 years of making due with whatever they could reuse or scrounge in their stone prison, Eliva considered managing a large household with individual rooms and fresh supplies available daily a well-deserved vacation. Meals, cleaning, laundry... everything ran like clockwork with her in charge, and she was just who Tremaine needed on her side. 

For more than half of the Aelin, this was their first party ever, so it wasn't surprising that they were excited about it. The children had been running around the atrium all morning until Dyani had dragged them down to the beach. It was too cold to swim, but at least they could run and shriek without threatening anyone's eardrums. 

The kitchen was a mass of activity, but Eliva was more than happy to sit down with Tremaine over a cup of tea while she explained the situation. Eliva had had a few run-ins with Visolela and Pasima herself, so was more than willing to help. While living in a matriarchal society had its perks, Eliva had gotten tired rather quickly of having everybody in Cineth always look to her instead of Obelin. "Are their men all so stupid?" she had asked Tremaine, "Or are the women just power-hungry?" Fortunately Giliead had wandered by at that point, so Tremaine was able to change the subject before Eliva plotted a revolution. 

"So, does it say you have to make it all from scratch?" Eliva asked. 

Tremaine racked her brain. "No, just that it has to be prepared by the matriarch. Which is apparently me." 

"Then there's nothing to worry about," Eliva said. "The leaven is already prepared. You just need to mix it, knead it, and stick it in the oven." 

Tremaine asked, very casually, "And you have this written down somewhere?" All of them had been studying Syrnaic writing from Bythia, and had gotten to the point where they could read and write simple instructions. 

Eliva smiled. "Even better. Davret was going to be making bread today. She can help you." 

Yes. Tremaine's day was looking up already. 

* * *

Davret, bless her enthusiastic little heart, was more than happy to have Tremaine help with the bread. And really, once she got started, it wasn't that bad after all. They moved a table out into the kitchen garden and set to work. They prepared the first loaf together, then Davret had to leave to get Giliead's help. Apparently the god had decided to sit in the bread oven and had to be coaxed out.

Tremaine found the work oddly soothing. Davret had lined up the ingredients so all she had to do was scoop the correct amount of each one into the large bowl, mix it with the wooden spoon, then dump it onto a board and knead it to death. Then wrap it in a cloth, set it aside, and move to the next one. By the time she'd finished the last loaf, she was covered in flour, and the table was a total loss. But she'd finished, damn it. 

Covering the last loaf of bread, she went off in search of Davret, and found her in the atrium with Ilias and Giliead, supervising the placement of tables. She ignored the hysterical laughter from the two men and looked at Davret, who was at least attempting to hide her smile behind her hand. "All right, I finished that part. Now what?" 

"Now we wait!" Davret exclaimed enthusiastically. In the months since Tremaine had known her, she'd never known her _not_ to be enthusiastic. "It won't be ready to bake for hours." 

Great. Tremaine narrowed her eyes at Ilias and Giliead, who would find themselves sleeping on the floor tonight if they didn't stop seeing the humor in this situation, then headed inside to get cleaned up. 

* * *

The afternoon passed by pleasantly enough, though Tremaine still made it a point to glare at Ilias whenever she ran into him. Karima and Halian had come by to visit, and it appeared Giliead had finally started to unbend a little toward them. The wine flowed with the conversation.

Shortly before dinner, Davret grabbed Tremaine and dragged her back out to the kitchen. Somebody had already transferred the coals from the hearth to the bread oven, but Davret wanted Tremaine to put the bread in herself. 

"Are you serious?" Tremaine poked at the oven with a stick, just in case the god had gotten back in when Giliead wasn't looking. "Won't it burn?" 

Davret gave her a thump on the shoulder, obviously taking it as a joke. "No, we move the coals to the sides, see?" 

Tremaine looked inside, and sure enough, the coals were all pushed to the side, leaving a large open area in the middle. She arranged the bread on a clay platter, pushed it inside the oven, then closed the door. Really, it wasn't that much more complicated than cooking at Coldcourt. Except for the lack of an atmosphere of gothic despair, it was just like home. 

"That's it?" she asked. 

"That's it," Davret replied. "Go be the hostess." And with that she shooed Tremaine out of the kitchen area and back to the atrium. 

Soon after that, they sat down for dinner, the first family celebratory dinner Tremaine could remember. Bythia and some of her students recited old stories that were new to Tremaine and the Aelin, there was a great deal of food and a lot more wine. When the bread came out, Tremaine was relieved to find that it looked the same as their normal bread, and tasted great, even if she did say so herself. 

"Are you sure Tremaine made this?" Ilias asked in an exaggerated whisper, but Giliead reached over her head and smacked him before Tremaine had a chance. 

"You can't give him back," he reminded her. "Karima already spent the money."

After the meal, Eliva stood up and said, "I know we already posted the clean-up schedule, but we have a last minute alteration." Aware she had everybody's attention, she smiled at Tremaine. "Since Tremaine was good enough to make the traditional harvest festival bread, the duty for cleaning up the baking area falls to her husband." 

At Ilias' shocked look, everyone burst into laughter. Remembering the kitchen table, with the hardened dough smeared in every crack and crevice, Tremaine didn't even try to wipe the smile off her face. 

Yes, life was good. 

 


End file.
